Hey, Neighbor
by waitnick
Summary: Naruto Modern AU: The tenth of October has always been a lonely day for Irvin Morris until this year, when a certain brunette makes it different. Find out how two people who daily ignored each other found company in the unlikeliest of circumstances. (Iruka x OC)


The tenth of October marks the day that my parents died. It is the only day of the year when I let myself dwell on my sorrow and be my real self, instead of the easygoing guy I try to be.

It is a little late when I got to the cemetery. I lay down the carnations I brought in front of the adjacent graves before me. By this time, the kids are probably still at the ramen shop, celebrating Noah's birthday and as luck would have it, the lacrosse team's victory against last year's champs. I celebrated with them for a bit before I excused myself.

"Ah, what a bummer, Irvin!" Noah had said.

"Yeah, Mr. Morris. Besides, Coach is paying," Juno had backed up.

"Come on, Chris will just force the bill on me if I stay longer. You kids have fun," I'd told them.

"Hey, Coach, you wouldn't do that, would you?" Noah had asked Chris, who just shrugged while taking a swig of his sake, a Japanese wine. "Ah, Coach! You are so cheap, ya know. Irvin treats us all the time."

"But not today. Bye, everyone!"

A chorus of good-byes and take-cares had answered me as I made my exit.

Now, here I am, sitting on the grass and mumbling things in the air. I talk to my parents for a while, telling them about my students, my co-teachers, and even my neighbors. I tell them about my life, how I'm doing my best to make them proud. I always tell them these things every time I visit though. And so, finally, I tell them something new. I tell them how much it still hurts even after seventeen years. How sometimes I think about how things would've been if they didn't die. Eleven-year-old me wouldn't have been such a brat. Maybe I wouldn't have been so alone. But I also tell them not to worry, because I can handle the pain. I have my friends now. I have learned how to live. Ah, shit. Now I'm crying. I would seriously kill for a drink.

I stay for an hour or so before leaving. During the drive home, I receive a text from Noah about Chris being "totally shit-faced" and their plan to just leave him there. I laugh. The game was won, the kids are having fun, and Noah's at his happiest. I ignore the little ache in my chest. Today is a good day.

It's almost ten when I arrived at my apartment complex. I am about to head in when someone spoke.

"Hey, neighbor," the voice says. I turn to see a hoodie-clad woman sitting at the sidewalk, frowning at the bottle of Jack Daniels she's currently holding. I recognize her. She is indeed my neighbor. I see her around ocassionally when I'm getting my mail at the lockers or when I go to the laundry room on Saturdays.

"Um, hey. Can I help you, miss?" I ask, trying and failing not to sound so formal. What can I do? I'm a teacher. I'm as formal as they get.

"Yeah, actually," she says, standing up. She dusts her jeans before walking over to me. "You know, I... kinda locked myself out. I just - I can't find my keys. I thought maybe I left them inside."

"Oh." I frown, looking up at the rooms in our building. Surely, someone must have seen her waiting here. Our other neighbors can be jerks. To think they stomached letting a woman sit in a cold October night just so they don't get interrupted with whatever they're doing. Sure, this is not the finest apartment complex in town, but I still expect a little community spirit, or at the very least, concern for a fellow human being.

"Hey, don't worry. I really am your neighbor. I'm Amy, from the room directly across yours."

"Oh, yes, sorry, I do recognize you. I'm Irvin," I say extending my hand. She takes it gingerly. Like I said, I'm formal. "Come on, it's chilly out."

Once we are inside, I try to make conversation. We are at the stairs, with me walking ahead because these stairs aren't made to accomodate two people at the same step unless they're tightly sandwiched together, which in this situation is entirely inappropriate.

"It's not very safe out at night, you know. Have you been waiting long?"

"Nah, just about twenty minutes tops. Creepy Cory passed by but there's no way in hell I'm gonna talk to him. He might get encouraged." She takes a swig from her bottle and then offers me some. I politely decline. "Gah. This shit sure leaves a nasty burn," I hear her mutter.

Creepy Cory is the guy from the room beside mine. He's introverted and a little weird but I don't think he's that bad.

"I have soda at home. Anyway, no offense, but aren't you being a little judgmental?"

"Excuse me? You should have seen the looks he gives me. I talked to Chelsea from upstairs and she said he gives her looks too."

"Yeah?"

"Plus, I... really need a place to crash tonight, and Creepy Cory's is totally out of the question."

I look at her. She's visibly making an effort to focus her gaze on the floor.

"Um, well, why didn't you call up your friend and stay at her place? What's her name? Chelsea?"

"Right. Well, Chelsea and I aren't friends, exactly. I don't think I have any at the moment. I'm new here." She laughs sheepishly. That's true, she's new... about two months ago. I don't say that though.

"Still, I'm sure she would let you stay for one night if that saves you from, uh, Cory."

"Yeah, I know. But Chelsea's a nurse and she's working night shifts."

"I see."

"Um, so... Can you let me crash? Please? I won't be a bother, I swear."

I think for a moment as I look at her. She doesn't really spell trouble, beside the fact that she's downing jack raw. What the hell, it's not like I have a choice, really. It's just wrong if I make her sleep in the corridor. Time to show some of that community spirit.

"Yes, sure."

"Really?" She looks so relieved. Well, I'm glad I helped. "Thank you so much! Thankyouthankyouthankyou!" She grasps my arm and smiles wide. I think she's gonna start doing a victory dance anytime now.

"It's not a big deal. It's just one night."

"Yes, first thing in the morning I'll go to the landlady and get a spare key. Just, thank you so much! I thought for sure I was doomed."

"Alright. It's fine, I told you. Well, here we are."

We're in front of my room, and I guess hers. I turn my key and open the door.

"Welcome to my humble abode," I declare. Hell, I sound like I'm from the eighties or something. I put my keys down and turn the light on. "Sorry for the mess. It goes with living alone."

"Yeah, I know all about that," she says. "Your apartment's cool, actually. Lots of books. You're a reader, huh?"

"Yeah, I have time."

"What kinda books do you read?" She actually seems interested.

"Um, classics, mostly. You want anything specific to go with that?" I ask, pertaining to her booze, as I head to the kitchen. "I don't have much, though. Sevenup, coke, mountain dew..."

"Nah, anything's fine. You sure don't want some of this?" She tilts the bottle towards me. I didn't know that she followed me here. Moreover, she's already got two glasses with her and a pitcher is now miraculously perched atop the center island. Ah, what the hell. I take a glass and half-fill it with sevenup, and she immediately follows the soda with her booze. We do the same for her glass. I swish mine and down the contents in one go.

"Long day?" she asks as she hops up on the island.

"Yeah, you?" I walk over to where she is and lean on my elbows beside her. I set down the bottle of soda.

"Very. This is in celebration of the eighth time my first novel got rejected. Woohoo!" Huh, I did not peg her to be a writer. She holds up her glass. I show her my empty one and she pours me another mix. She opens her bag and produces two more bottles. After that, she tries for another toast.

"Wow, do you have a minibar in there?" I ask I tap my glass with hers.

"No, this is all." She busies herself mixing the right amount of sevenup and jack in the pitcher.

"Three bottles of jack and you didn't count on having company."

"Yep. Got a problem?"

"Nah. That bad, huh?"

"Yeah. I got my degree just to waste it waiting tables for minimum wage in my prime years. Yay, me."

"I'm sure you'll get published soon."

"Nah, maybe I write crap." She takes another gulp. I mirror her actions.

"I have read somewhere that it takes four books in average for a writer to get their debut."

"Well, fuck me. I'll be broke beyond salvation by that point." She continues attacking her drink. "Whatever. What about you? What do you do?"

"I teach at Greenefield High."

"Subject?"

"History."

"Oooh, I wish my history teacher looked like you. Maybe I wouldn't have flunked."

"Heh. History's not that hard."

She sees I've emptied my glass and pours me more. I nod my thanks. It's Friday night, after all. No work tomorrow so a little alcohol is fine.

"Gah. My history teachers were so fucking ancient and boring."

She too gets a brand new glass. We just keep on drinking for a while, lost in our own thoughts. I am almost finished with my fourth glass when she spoke again, breaking the silence.

"Dammit. My life is so totally fucked," she whines.

"You're overreacting. You're what? Twenty-four? Twenty-five? Life's not over yet," I say. I pour myself another glass.

"Twenty-three, actually. Damn, do I look that old?"

"Nah, I wouldn't call it old. Mature is more like it," I backtrack.

"Whatever you say, Teach."

"Look, I'm serious. Just let me read it. I'm sure it's good."

"You wouldn't like it."

"Try me."

"Nah. Its target audience are usually females."

"Pffft. Come on." Okay, I may be a little drunk now. I'm not very good at handling my booze.

"No really. It's..." She flushes.

"Hey, come on. Just an excerpt if you want."

"No."

"Is this it?" Somehow, I have her bag on one hand and a manuscript on the other.

"Oh, shit. Hey, give that back. A little privacy, please?" She reddens even more.

"What?" I laugh. "You wanna get published but you don't want me to read your story 'coz of privacy?"

"Yes, Teacher, sir. Come on." She grabs for the papers but I hold them away towards my back. She tries to hop off her perch but I firmly set my other hand in the her farther side like a seatbelt to stop her. "That is so fucking unfair, Teacher." She overpronounces the last word.

"Okay, just answer me this. Why are you embarrassed? You gotta get used to people reading your works. You'd get published someday. Hell, you may even get famous."

"No, it's just I'm fine with other people reading it, but not you!"

"What? Why not?"

"Come on, Teach! Seriously, give it back!" Her mouth curves into a deep frown. This, combined with her crimson face, is just too hilarious. I let go of the manuscript, accidentally slapping it on the table, because I can't contain my laughter any longer. She snatches it almost immediately.

"What's funny, jerk?"

"Nah, just... Your face is so red. Like a tomato."

I burst out laughing again. She joins in soon.

"Tuh-may-toe," she slurs and then goes right back to laughing. We continue like that laughing at everything we say, downing our booze. When we finished the whole pitcher, she prepares more. Talking, laughing, drinking. This routine kept us busy for the last ten minutes. When we finally calm down, she suddenly says, "It's embarrassing 'coz it's erotica. I don't usually get embarrassed about it but I don't know..."

"Erotica? Isn't that - ?"

"Um, a sex book."

"Heh. You shouldn't be embarrassed. We're adults here," I manage to say before starting another giggle fit. "Here, let me read a bit."

"Nawww," she coos.

"Hey, hey, come on," I insist and she reluctantly hands me the manuscript. I stare at it for a long time but I swear there isn't a single word written. It's just a blur of unending gray from top to bottom. I turn the page and it's the same. "Don't cheat. A manuscript should have words. Where didja put it?"

"What? That's the manuscript!"

"What? Naw. Look." I show her the papers in my hand.

"Oh, shit. What did you do to my story?"

"Nothing, I swear."

"Wait. Here. There's a word here, see!" she exclaims, snatching the papers. "Bout... Boat... Boot..."

"Lemme see, lemme see." I look at where her finger is pointing. "Boat... Boot... Erg, butt... Bo- " I try but she suddenly laughs. I laugh too. "What?" I ask.

"Butt." She laughs again.

"It's not 'butt'!"

"Naw, this is butt." She suddenly stands up in the counter top, turns around, and wiggles her butt. I laugh. She turns again to face me but loses her balance. I stand to catch her, and I do but it's not how I wanted it to happen. Instead of landing gracefully in my arms, she topples over me, hands on my shoulders. I manage to hold her hips but the world quickly tilts and my vision dances. Next thing I know, I'm sitting on my kitchen floor with an impossible pain in my rear and a weight on top of me.

"Gah. My butt hurts."

I hear giggles right in my ears. It is then that I registered that the weight on top of me is a person with long legs currently wrapped around my middle. What's her name again?

"It seriously hurts," I complain.

"What does?"

"My butt," I say and she starts giggling again.

"Maybe you need a butt doctor," she suggests.

"Yeah. You good?"

"I am not a butt doctor! I'm a writer!"

"Naw, I mean does anything hurt?"

"Mmmm, my head feels a little weird."

"Lemme see."

She pushes herself off me a little and faces me. I lean closer and narrow my eyes, pretending to inspect her forehead with utmost concentration.

"There's nothing here," I tell her.

"What?! Nonononono." She looks honestly scared.

"What? Isn't that a good thing?"

"No, it's not!" she yells. "What if it never grows back?"

"What are you talking about?"

"My face!"

I laugh then as realization sinks in.

"You jerk! It's not funny."

"Oh but it is. Your face is right there. I meant no wounds or bruises."

"Ah, that's a relief." She stares at my eyes. I stare back at her. The staring contest goes on for a while.

"You're cute," she finally says.

"Heh," I say as I grin because my mind is not working properly and a hot woman who is practically glued to my body just complimented me. Somehow, everything's blurred except for her face but that may be the alcohol's doing and her close proximity to me. Nevertheless, I do what any sane man would in this situation. I lean in and kiss her. At the exact moment our lips make contact and my eyes close, my mind goes blank. That is why I don't remember anything that happened afterwards except that I wake up the next morning to find a very bucknaked brunette with her back turned towards me, hurriedly putting on pants.

What the hell happened last night?

 **A/N: This is a one-shot right now but I might write sequels if the mood strikes. Anyway, this is my first story so I hope you enjoyed! Feedback is very much welcome ;) Thanks.  
**


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